


landslide

by tsumilkys



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Image, Dermatillomania, F/F, Genderbending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, based on my own experiences with having ocd and dermatillomania, dermatillomania is a disorder where you pick or rip your own skin off so, its kuroken but theyre lesbians, small mentions of scars scabs and like a singular drop of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27318148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsumilkys/pseuds/tsumilkys
Summary: all kenma wanted to do was surprise her girlfriend after a long business trip, why did it turn into this?
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	landslide

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is a short story i wrote for my fiction class in college, and i wrote it thinking about kuroken (i picked different names to submit it to my prof with lol) and im quite fond of this piece so i wanted to post it!!
> 
> this focuses on ocd and dermatillomania (ripping/picking your own skin off), which are not mentioned by name in the piece, but it is what i am writing about. i am going to rant a bit in the end notes about my purpose in writing this piece, but i just wanna say before you read this: to anyone who is experiencing these same conditions, i love you and we can both make it through this!! it can be difficult, but we can do it :)
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!

She couldn’t do this. Simple as that, there was no way she could go through with her initial plan. For the umpteenth time, Kenma found herself unable to execute a seemingly simple task.

For once in her goddamn life, Kenma just wanted to be able to function like a normal human being. All she had wanted to do was to surprise her fiance when she arrived home from a week-long business trip!

Kuroo, Kenma’s lover, was the breadwinner in their relationship. She was beautiful, mature, she had a college degree- so basically, she was everything that Kenma wishes she could be. Instead, she was a college dropout, the epitome of a starving artist if not for Kuroo’s support.

They had discussed it, they were both more than happy with the arrangement, but that didn’t stop Kenma from feeling a sense of uselessness and inferiority. While Kuroo earned their living, Kenma had taken on the responsibilities of a traditional housewife, cooking, cleaning, all of that jazz. No, Kenma’s issue wasn’t with being in charge of taking care of their home- some women may have looked down on her for it, but Kenma found joy in the domestic nature of cooking her partner dinner and doing their laundry.

It was just… Kenma sometimes felt like she needed to be doing more. Kuroo did so much, paid for their mortgage, provided the food for Kenma to cook, everything.

That urge to do more was what brought Kenma into her situation today.

In general, Kenma was timid when it came to the more intimate, private parts of her love life. To be frank, her sex life was far from flourishing. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to do things with Kuroo, no, she absolutely wanted to. They had done it before, multiple times. They had been together for approximately six years at that point, and while they had become intimate plenty of times, Kenma still struggled with it.

Between unfortunate sexual encounters of the past and her general sensitivity to being touched by others, Kenma tended to avoid it most of the time. In a way, it made the times they did get more intimate even more memorable and special, but it still was not ideal.

Kenma was determined to work through her issues, to be able to experience so many more things with Kuroo, both inside and outside of the bedroom. While Kuroo was off on her business trip, Kenma had brewed up a plan to give Kuroo a special welcome home that day.

It was perfect, she had planned everything to a tee. She had created a list, something that always soothed her anxieties, of the steps she would take before Kuroo would arrive home around five in the evening.

Her perfect plan had crumbled to pieces as soon as she hit number three, however. Number one and two had gone by seamlessly, both picking out her outfit and taking a warm shower. Number three, though, decided to be the problem child for the day. Well, technically, she had completed the third step, but she couldn’t go any further.

Kenma loved the number three. It was the one she would count to whenever the compulsion to count set it. Folding laundry? Count each article until three, and begin again. Chopping up vegetables for dinner? Three strokes of the knife at a time. Showering? Make sure to wash your hair three times in order for it to be clean- only two times would leave a filthy feeling on your skin if you didn’t.

Three, what a divinely perfect number. When things were in threes, Kenma was covered in a lull of peace.

It destroyed her that her precious number three was now associated with the roadblock in her plan. Why couldn’t it have been the number four? Or even two?

Standing in front of the full length mirror on the back of their bathroom door, Kenma stared at herself, drinking it all in. Her body was adorned in an intricate black lace, beautiful stitched flowers and swirls dancing across the fabric on her skin. The set was gorgeous, a work of art etched into clothing. It left little to the imagination, Kenma had never worn something so revealing. Somehow, it made her feel more exposed than she would feel if she had been entirely devoid of clothing. 

Unworthy.

Her body was unworthy of being clad in something so delicate and beautiful. The contrast between the gorgeous lace and her hideous skin was too much, it was all so wrong.

Fingers trailed over her chest, skimming over the ugly red lesions scattered all over the once soft tissue. There was no one to blame but herself, she had caused this, had done this to herself. The inflamed and scabbed over skin taunted her, begging to be ripped open until they were weeping and burning once more.

Short, stubby fingernails brushed over each and every visible point of injury, teasing Kenma’s mind and willpower to resist the temptation. Her hands moved from her breasts to her shoulders, ghosting over hideous marks nearly identical to the ones she had dipped her fingers into moments earlier.

Her face, shoulders, upper arms, back, and chest were littered with imperfections, ones that she had caused. Some more recent than others, some larger and more severe. 

Why was she this way?

Kenma hated everything about this part of her. To begin with, they were ugly, repulsive almost. They hurt too. Kenma despised pain with her entire being, the feeling of her nails digging into her skin made her gag- but she couldn’t stop. It was yet another compulsion of hers, one that she had no inkling about how to resist. It didn’t help that she still struggled with acne, even as a full blown adult- those little whiteheads and cysts were magnets, drawing her fingers towards them to pick open and rip apart. A small, nearly unnoticeable pimple would turn to an angry red puffed up lesion within a day's time.

Even now, wallowing in self-hatred because of her habit, Kenma’s fingers moved of their own free will, pulling a scab free from her shoulder and eyes watching the blood bead up until the surface tension broke and a small drop slid down her arm.

Salty tears fell down her cheeks, going over the wounds on her cheeks as if they were only small road bumps.

Some road bumps weren’t that easy to overcome, though. Kenma knew this better than most.

How had her plan to act as a sexy housewife, welcoming her fiance home from a long, tiring week of meetings and conference calls, turned into her crying alone in the bathroom while staring at her reflection?

At the ripe age of twenty-six years old, Kenma felt like a little kid once again, crying for someone to come to her side and provide unconditional love and comfort. So dependent on her closest loved ones, how could she call herself an adult?

How could she care for Kuroo when she struggled to care for herself?

Kuroo appeared before her in her mind, reaching out and cupping Kenma’s face softly, looking at her with adoration and love in her eyes.

Though it was only happening within her head, Kenma could have sworn she felt Kuroo’s soft skin truly resting against her less than perfect skin. She closed her eyes and sank into the illusion projected by her brain.

_ “You’re beautiful, Kenma,” Kuroo’s gravelly yet soft voice spoke. _

_ “But I-” _

_ Kuroo shushed her softly, pressing their lips together for all but a second before parting once more, smiling at the woman before her. _

_ “Kuro…” Kenma spoke the nickname affectionately, “How did I get so lucky as to have you in my life?” _

_ “I ask myself the same question every day, love. But instead of questioning the way the world works, I just thank my lucky stars that you are lying there next to me every morning I wake up. I may not know exactly how the world works, and why it works in that way, but I do know that I am hopelessly, endlessly, pathetically in love with you and everything that has been brought into my life through being with you.” _

_ Kenma sniffled, rubbing tears from her eyes before pressing her forehead against Kuroo’s, “I love you too… so, so much. I can’t even begin to explain it to you. The day you proposed to me was the single most happy day in my entire life, realizing that I would get to spend the rest of my living days with you.” _

_ “Oh pudding, you’re such a sap, but I guess I am too. There’s a reason I asked you to marry me, you know that? I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t been prepared to be with you throughout all of your ups and downs. I have my own ups and downs too, you know that. You’re there for me, and I will always be here for you.” _

_ Despite the tears in her eyes, Kenma smiled, bumping her nose against Kuroo’s, “I love you, and I’m sorry for getting all down like this so often, I know it must be troublesome, I don’t intend to worry you.” _

_ “I worry about you because I love you so much. Think, when I come home from work in a bad mood and you worry over me, is that because I’m being a bother or troublesome?” _

_ “No… I worry because I just care about you so much. I know you’re strong and can make it through rough times, but I still worry, and I want to make you feel better.” _

_ “And that’s exactly how I feel about you. I worry because I care, not because you are inconveniencing me whatsoever.” _

When Kenma opened her eyes, she was alone in the bathroom again, right where she had been before. Kuroo hadn’t arrived home yet, she wasn’t there in person, she hadn’t been the one speaking such sweet words into her mind just moments ago.

Yet, Kenma knew that what she heard was exactly what Kuroo would have said, if she had been there in the flesh.

She looked into the mirror again, checking herself out from head to toe. She felt… empowered, confident. Kuroo didn’t care about her marked up skin, all she cared about was the person who the body belonged to. Kenma could have been covered in scars, warts, and boils from head to toe, and Kuroo would have still gazed at her as if she were witnessing an angel fallen from the heavens above.

Instead of nervousness, giddiness bubbled up inside of Kenma’s chest. She swiped her phone from its place on the bathroom counter and checked the time- quarter until five. Kuroo would be arriving home any minute now.

There was still time to make this work!

Kenma clutched her phone and swung the bathroom door open, hopping over to their bedroom instead. She was going to create a night so special, one that would only be trumped when their honeymoon came around.

Setting her phone on the charging dock on their bedside table, Kenma made quick work of herself, straightening the sheets on the bed, combing her hair, pulling sheer socks up over her thighs and attaching them to her garter. She found herself excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she applied her lip gloss and eyeliner- this was going to be their night, just her and Kuroo, together. By the end of the night, her gloss would be gone and her eyeliner would be smudged from tears, but that was exactly what she wanted.

Just as she was wrapping a silky robe around her body, Kenma heard the distinctive sound of the front door being unlocked- perfect timing. Even with her small breakdown earlier, she truly had managed to get her preparations done in time.

A shout of, “I’m home!” rang out from the entryway, and Kenma knew she was ready to do this, walking downstairs quietly to greet Kuroo with a sultry yet loving smile tugging at her lips.

“Welcome home, Kuro.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i get very frustrated with how ocd is treated like some nonchalont quirky thing, but its fucking debilitating and can have horrible symptoms like dermatillomania, which i struggle with horribly. ive been made fun of for my scars and scabs and even my open wound from my skin picking, and i just needed to vent this out so that others with the same conditions dont feel ashamed and alone like i always have,,, its not your fault, you cant control what obsessions and compulsions you have, and you cannot control your reactions to different things (even if it seems small to someone else, it can be a big deal to you and thats okay, its not your fault and you are not overreacting), you are not alone. 
> 
> you can find me on insta @tsumilkys :) thank you for reading


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